


A Lesson in Sharing

by Jandeera



Series: A Long Way From Home Alternate Universe [8]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Boredom, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fireworks, Gen, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Healing, Jealousy, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Spanking, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-13 22:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jandeera/pseuds/Jandeera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to 'Post War Celebrations'.   Faramir finally gets Aragorn back (or attempts to, at least).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Best Place to Start is at the Beginning

Faramir Denethorion, Captain of the Ithilien Rangers, son of the Steward of Gondor was not happy. In the months since the War of the Ring had been won, everyone living in the Citadel of Minas Minas Tirith had been kept extremely busy with the rebuilding. Everyone except Faramir that is. That dictator whom his father had acknowledged as king wouldn't let Faramir do anything. Yes he fallen to the black breath, but he'd spent so much time in Ithilien that that wasn't much of a surprise. The wound he had taken in the Battle for the Pelennor wasn't that bad, it had only taken twenty stitches to fix it, no where near his record. Worst of all was the way the supposed King kept stuffing him with food. He had always been rather slim, an inheritance that came from his mother. He was not as under weight as the 'King' seemed to thing he was.

Much to his disgust, his father, whom the King had 'graciously' allowed to remain as Steward, had been backing every single one of the King's demand about Faramir's health.

Faramir could remember the temper tantrum both had thrown when he had returned to his room after setting off the fireworks to celebrate the end of the war. His father had put him back to bed, and given him a large number of law books to memorise. He was finished them within days. He could remember the one bright point of that incident. Elladan Elrondion did not agree with how hiss little brother was treating Faramir. He and Elrohir, both healers as well as warriors with a few thousand years experience, felt that it would be a better idea to let Faramir go about his daily activities, but with someone to supervise, on the off chance he over did things. Both had volunteered. Aragorn had disagreed.

The worst part of the forced inactivity was that Aragorn wouldn't let anyone talk about how things were going in the field, lest it make him any more restive than he already was. As such, he had heard nothing of his rangers since the Pellenor. He had no idea of casualties, no way of knowing which of his friends had survived the war. The twins tried to tell him what they knew, but the Ithilien rangers did not speak to those they didn't know. Boromir had complained once that getting information from an uncooperative ranger was like trying to steal Mithrandir's fireworks without being caught. Faramir could do it, but no one else could, and he would never give away his secrets.

There was one bright spark on the horizon. Merry and Pippin were returning to Gondor so that they could experience a proper Gondorian Mettare. Apparently Boromir hadn't shut up about the festival the Mettare that he was away on the quest, and now the hobbits were wanting to see it for themselves. Particularly, they wanted to see the Mettare day feast. They bet Boromir that he was exaggerating the size of the feast, and now they wanted to collect. Unfortunately for them, Boromir was quite right about the feast. Boromir was one of the most honest people in Minas Tirith. He would have made a terrible ranger.

One upside to the enforced isolation and relaxation was that Faramir had been able to start planning the comeuppance of those who had plotted against him. The twins, who had claimed Denethor as another little brother, which meant they had claimed the position of Uncles to both of his sons, had already offered their assistance in whatever plan he could come up with. 

Another suprising co-conspirator was Aragorn's closest friend, Legolas. Quite annoyed with his friend for refusing to listen to anyone but Denethor, Leglas had appeared in Faramir's room asking if he had started plotting yet. The twins, who had also been visiting at the time, grinned at him, while Faramir gave him his best innocent look. Uncle Legolas, as the twins insisted Faramir call him, was not fooled for a moment. Apparently, his father had had been friends with Prince Angelimar of Dol Amroth, Faramir's great grandfather. On one visit, Thranduil had taken Legolas with him. Angelimar's heir, Faramir's beloved Grandfather, Adrahil, had apparently tried that particular look on his father. It had resulted in Angelimar locking down security all through Dol Amroth, much to amusement of all watching, particularly the young heir to the Stewardship, as it meant he got a longer holiday than planned, as Angelimar couldn't spare the men at that particular moment to escort the young one back to Minas Tirith. Faramir had plans for teaching his monarch not to cross the Captain of the Ithilien Rangers, but that didn't mean that he had to tell everyone about them just yet. When the time was right, he would tell those people who needed information exactly what he wanted to know. Then Aragorn would find out what happened to someone who stood in the way Faramir Denethorion.


	2. A Rather Widespread Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The planning starts to come together.

Plotting against one’s king is always a risky business. This Faramir understood, but had decided to ignore his common sense, and go ahead with the prank anyway. His father was Steward; he would make the Quest seem like a leisurely holiday to Aragorn if anything happened to his youngest son. The Hobbits had arrived the day before, and had been bribed into helping with fireworks, although Faramir thought that it was likely they would have helped anyway, the idea of having the big folk ask for their help in playing a prank too much of a bragging point for when they returned home.

The Hobbits role was simple, to meet up with Aragorn on a particular morning in just over a week. They would talk of the special feast that they were looking forward to partaking in that night. Faramir knew that under most circumstances the Hobbits were terrible liars (they reminded him of Boromir at times) and asked the head cook, a lady of significant years who had ruled the kitchens since the last time Aragorn had been in Gondor. She still hadn’t forgotten the day of Denethor and Aragorn’s fight in the kitchen. By all accounts it had taken the two boys a week to put everything back to rights. She was more than happy to prepare a feast for the Hobbits as a way of tweaking the King’s nose. Her only proviso had been that Faramir must eat at least some of what she prepared. He acquiesced, but only after much grumbling about how he was not as skinny as everyone thought he was.

Next was the King’s secretary. A man of middling age, he had been Faramir and Boromir’s much beleaguered tutor. His memory tended to fail at inopportune times and he had never quite worked out that most of the pranks that had befallen him hadn’t been Boromir’s work. As such, he was more than happy to leave Faramir alone with the King’s schedule for a few minutes. After all, it was Boromir who was capable of forging Touron’s handwriting, not his sweet, brilliant little Faramir.

The twins and Legolas had the most important job. They had to keep anyone not in on the prank away from the Citadel for the day. Denethor, Boromir, Elrond, Celeborn, Thranduil, Haldir, Orophin, and Rumil were riding out to some of the surrounding villages to assess how they were coping after the war. Galadriel, Maglor and Arwen were going to spend the day shopping, with the twins acting as their cart horses. Legolas had found a tree not far from the arch way where the main gate was supposed to reside, and was preparing for a day playing lookout. 

Faramir had been left in the Citadel with Aragorn as babysitter. Aragorn would have no back up apart from his forgetful secretary, and the Citadel staff, most of whom either remembered him as a trouble making young northerner named Thorongil, or had parents who remembered him as such. Unfortunately for Aragorn, the Citadel staff was all safely loyal to Faramir, as were most of the city. All had agreed to help the young man who had held Ithilien long enough to ensure that the quest had a chance of succeeding. Most remembered the dark days a decade and a half ago when the Captain of the Ithilien Rangers had been brought back to the city, more dead than alive. 

Most people had believed that it was inevitable that Ithilien should fall at that point. Finally, after six months with no further contact between the Rangers and the rest of Gondor, most of whom had given the Rangers up for dead, a very tired messenger made it through to Minas Tirith. The Rangers had pushed the Orcs back into Minas Morgul and had stationed a large contingent to prevent them from coming back out. The reason for their success when all had seemed lost? One of the young Lieutenants had worked out who their officers were, and how they operated. Mixed in with a judicious amount of foresight, the Rangers had begun to predict the movements of the Orcs, and eventually had won the battle. When the young officer had returned to the city to accept his promotion to Captain, everyone, including his father and brother, was surprised to find out the officer was none other than Denethor’s twenty one year old son. Gondor’s High Command called an emergency meeting. Faramir did not have enough time in grade for them to be able to award him the promotion. In the end, Denethor had to get an amendment passed by the High Council so that the Ranger could get on with his job of defending Gondor’s eastern border.

So when Faramir had sent the twins into the city with letters of introduction, and instructions on what to do, the people of Minas Tirith were more than happy to help their young captain. All that now remained was to wait for the day to finally arrive.


	3. An Unexpected (and Unwanted) Interruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan falls apart.

The day had finally arrived. The Hobbits were happily salivating over the feast they would have that night, whilst having breakfast with Aragorn. Denethor and his group had left the city early that morning and Legolas was safely up at his lookout point. Galadriel, her cousin, and their grandchildren had left for their day of shopping. All that was left in the Citadel was Aragorn, who was already hard at work, and Faramir, who was yet to wake up.

It was upon Faramir's awakening that the plan started to fall apart. He could feel his head pounding, nausea rolling in his stomach and his limbs felt like they were made of lead. He didn't bother opening his eyes, chances were the light would make his head feel like someone was poking it with a heated rod. Groaning, he force himself to roll on his stomach, and pulled a pillow over his head, and tried to go back to sleep.

It was in this condition that Aragorn found him when he came to check on him half an hour later. He quickly pulled the curtains shut, earning a grateful noise from the mostly hidden form on the bed. He then gently pried the lad's fingers from their death grip on the pillow, then moved the pillow off the lady's head. As he rolled him so that he was lying on his back, he slipped the pillow back underneath Faramir's head. He then retrieved a few damp cloths from the washroom attached to Faramir's room. He laid one over the burning forehead of his honorary nephew, and another over his eyes, in order to block out any light that had gotten past the curtains. Aragorn then sat on the edge of the bed and started singing an old song that Finduilas had sung to Faramir as a child. As he did so, he ran one of his hands through the sick young man's hair in an attempt to sooth him. Within minutes, Faramir was fast asleep.

*****

A few hours later, Faramir awoke for a second time. By this stage he was feeling much better. A faint scratching could be heard from the general direction of his desk, as could the soft inhalation and exhalation that Faramir understood indicated the presence of another person in his room. The rhythm of the breathing however didn't match the patterns of those known to Faramir, so it wasn't his Ada or brother, nor Uncle Imrahil, or his crazy cousins from that side of the family.

He gently put one hand up to his face face, and pulled the cloths away from his eyes. Blinking to remove the fuzziness from his vision, he focused in on the stranger in his room. Who proved not to be a stranger, much to Faramir's disgust, but rather the King, whose breathing patterns Faramir had not yet bothered to learn. The King looked rather odd though. Dressed in clothing far more suited to the forests of Ithilien than the Citadel in Minas Tirith, it took Faramir a few seconds to realise the significance of the clothing. The King had to be one of the Northern Rangers, most likely he was their Chieftain. Faramir had met the second in command of the Northern Rangers on a number of occasions, although he thought that Halbarad had assumed him to be one of the junior officers, rather than the Captain himself. Halbarad he trusted implicitly, and he had spoken high of his Chieftain, both as a healer and as a leader. If Faramir was right, and this was Halbarad's Cheiftain, then he had done him a great disservice by ignoring him at every opportunity.

By the time Faramir had thought this through, Aragorn had felt the young ones eyes upon him, thoughtful for once, rather than outright hostile. He left his work and came over to the edge of the bed.

"How are you feeling, tithen pen?" He asked, wondering if he was going to get a proper answer this time, or just another mouthful of profanities, as he had gotten every time he had asked this question without Denethor in the room.

He got neither of the expected responses.

"Are you Halbarad's Cheiftain?"

The question just about knocked Aragorn off his feet. Halbarad had talked about the young Ithilien Ranger that was sent each time for the information exchanges between the two units. He had never mentioned that it was the Captain of Rangers himself that he had been speaking with.

Aragorn after a few seconds that Faramir was still waiting for an answer. He nodded, smiling gently at the younger Ranger. A look of sheepishness crossed Faramir's face as he slowly started to reconcile what he knew of the Northern Chieftain with what he had seen of the King. Faramir blew out a long breath and caught his top lip between his teeth, an old habit that Denethor and Boromir could have told Aragorn that it meant Faramir was not happy about something not going his way. Aragorn however saw it exactly as it was, the lad was pouting because he didn't want to acknowledge that Aragorn might have had a point these last long months.


	4. A Lightly Humoured Lunch

Faramir’s concentration on the problem at hand was broken with a knock on the door. After a sharp, “Come in,” from the King, Faramir’s door opened, revealing trays being carried by a pair of sheepish looking elven twins, and a crown prince with similar countenance. Escorting them were their sister, Arwen, and Galadriel, their Grandmother. At a surprised look from Aragorn, Arwen explained that Maglor had been knocked over by the twins, and had had to change. She assured him that their Grandfather would be joining them in a few minutes. The trays were placed on the table in the corner of Faramir’s before the three carrying them darted to the opposite side Faramir’s bed to where Aragorn was sitting, obviously an attempt to put some distance between themselves, and the rather vexed looking Lady Galadriel. Faramir sunk down further under his covers when the look she had been directing at the three young elves turned to him.

The Lady’s attention was, luckily for Faramir, pulled away, as her cousin chose that moment to enter the room. He was now cleanly dressed after being knocked into a puddle by the twins trying to escape their sister after they had complained about the shopping trip once too often. To this point Faramir had not met the foster father of Lord Elrond, or so he had thought. AS he had walked into the room, he recognised him as an old friend of his Grandfather Adrahil’s, who had given him music lessons those summers as a child that he had spent in Dol Amroth. He grinned, somewhat pathetically up at him, as he was aware that Denethor had given him full permission, years ago, to take him to task for any misbehaviour that might occur while Faramir was away from his Father. Maglor just smiled back softly, realising where the young one’s mind had gone. He crossed to the side of the bed where the twins and Las were ‘hiding’, and gently pulled Faramir into a hug, which was promptly returned.

The moment was broken when Galadriel cleared her throat, and suggested they eat before lunch went cold. Maglor and Aragorn pulled Faramir up into a sitting position, and plate of food put on his lap. 

Picking up his fork, Faramir recognised that considering the day’s events it might be a better idea to eat what he had been given without complaining. The rest of the food was passed around, and soon everyone was eating. The twins started a conversation with each other about past pranks they had pulled, with Legolas and their younger siblings adding a comment every now and again. It wasn’t long before the tension in the room was broken and the six youngest members of the gathering were laughing. At the mention of one prank, Galadriel had started laughing as well, prompting a pause in the conversation while Elladan enquired as to what she had found so funny. The answer was simple. Unlike the twins claim, they were not the first to play that particular prank on a parent. She could remember a day long ago in Valinor, where her Father and both her Uncles were at least pretending to get along. This truce had ended not long after the eldest, Feanaro, had ended up as the victim of the prank in question. The young elves all broke in at this point, all wondering who would have been enough of an Idiot to play such a prank on the High Prince. Once again Galadriel started laughing, as she simply nodded over at her cousin, Feanaro’s second son, and the perpetrator of said prank. The young ones all started laughing.

The rest of the lunch went smoothly, Faramir started to relax properly for the first time since the war. Before long his plate started to slide from his grasp as his body demanded that he rest. Aragorn removed the plate, and helped him lie down properly. With the soft buzz of conversation around him, Faramir fell into one of the deepest sleeps that he had achieved since he had woken in Houses of Healing after the Battle for the Pelennor. The other seven in the room shared looks of relief as it sunk in that Faramir had felt safe enough to fall asleep in their presence.


	5. Understanding Begins

Upon awakening for the third time that day, the full reality of the situation that Faramir found himself in was realised. As he opened his eyes, he was greeted with the visage of his father. A very annoyed, displeased visage of his father to be exact. Pulling the covers over his head was perhaps not the best way to hide, but it was the only alternative to having to face his father. He tried to go back to sleep, hoping that when he woke up again, it would be safer for him. Unfortunately, for Faramir at least, his father wasn’t satisfied with that. Faramir was soon exposed to the cool evening air, as his father pulled the covers off of him. With a rather indignant squawk, Faramir tried to grab the blankets, but they were removed from his reach too quickly. He glanced up at his father, hoping that his mood had improved in the past thirty seconds. The Valar were not looking too fondly on Faramir that day, as his father’s face had darkened even further.

Barking, Denethor demanded, “What in all of Middle Earth did you think you were playing at?”

Faramir, by this stage sitting cross legged on his bed, facing the direction that his father was in, but resolutely staring at the mattress, shrugged. He couldn’t quite come up with an answer that wouldn’t infuriate his father further. He started to pick at his bottom sheet, the urge to fidget overwhelming him. He was getting smacked, he already knew that. If he just kept his mouth shut, then he might come away with a sore backside, but the reasoning behind his wanting to prank Aragorn a secret. Denethor, however, simply stood there staring, arms folded, smouldering at the behaviour of his youngest child.

After a few minutes, Faramir glanced up at his father, and asked, in a tone that would not register with him, as being extremely rude, until much later, “Shouldn’t you be off playing countries with your brother?”

By the time he finished the question; Faramir was once again staring at his mattress, and as such missed the flash of understanding as it passed across Denethor’s face. He sat down on the mattress, startling Faramir, and pulled his son into a hug. Faramir froze for a second, and then grabbed hold of his beloved Ada, in the way that a drowning man will hold one of the red rafts that are found along the beaches of Dol Amroth. At this point the tears started. Having felt cut off from everything as a result of being too ill to help with any of the work being done since the end of the war, the sudden hug from his father was a balm to Faramir’s tired mind. He started babbling, not really sure of what he was saying, just trying to make his father understand. He was missing his rangers, he didn’t yet know how many, or who had survived the Black Gate. Boromir was almost never home, and when he was, he would come see Faramir for only a minute before going again. Denethor was always working these days, and not in Faramir’s room like he usually did if his youngest child was home ill or injured. Denethor just held his son tightly while he sobbed out his frustration, calming him whenever he started to get too overwrought. 

Finally the sobs slowed down, and eventually ceased. By this stage, the golden light of a red sun set had faded into the multitude of shades of grey that made up the early hours of the night, before a lamp or candle was lit to chase them away. Faramir rested in his father’s arms, once again secure in the fact that his father did still care, that the return of Aragorn, known prior to Denethor as Thorongil, hadn’t removed him from his father’s affections. Denethor also finally understood where the sullen child that resembled his son came from. Faramir’s understanding of family had always been that Denethor and Boromir were his. The various Aunt, Uncle and cousins came and went, and while Faramir liked them well enough, he had never been as close to them as he had been with his father and brother. Mainly because it had only been the three of them for most of Faramir’s memory, Finduilas a ghost existing only in portraits and other mementos of her time with them. Aragorn, and his extended family, had inserted themselves into Denethor’s family, which was something Faramir had not been able to reconcile within his own mind. Family was his father and brother, not the Stray Northerner (as Faramir had called him after getting caught on his way back to bed after setting off fireworks with Elladan), that Boromir had brought back from the Quest with him. The result, Faramir had gotten jealous over the time that his family had needed to spend with away from him, and had attempted demonstrated his annoyance with Aragorn over the issue by the rather elaborate prank that had been set up. One that may possibly have worked, had not the damage to Faramir’s left hand, his dominant hand, not left tell tale marks within the forged handwriting on Aragorn’s schedule.


	6. Consequences, or, Haven't We Been Here Before?

Once Faramir had stopped sobbing, Denethor grasped his shoulders and pushed him back slightly, until he could look his son in the eyes.

“You do realise that even had your prank worked, we would have been in the same position? There are few people, or elves, which could convince the people of Gondor to assist in such a prank, and of those, your name would be at the top of the list, as none of the others have spent the last few months making it clear that they have an objection to the King.”

“In hindsight, it was not the best prank that I could have come up with.”

“Any prank probably would have had us in this position, Faramir. I’ve been expecting this for a while now. I could count on one hand the number of people you haven’t pranked in retaliation for an ‘offense’ of this magnitude. Even had you and your co-conspirators not been caught red handed, I would have pointed Aragorn in the direction of his brothers, and told him to leave you to me. I am surprised however, that you managed to get the young Crown Prince of Eryn Lasgalen involved. From my conversations with his father, I thought Legolas would have been on Aragorn’s side.”

“He’s not happy with Aragorn at the moment.”

“I figured as much. Do you know why? He is refusing to talk to his father or Aragorn, except to tell them to work it out for themselves.”

“Las has years of experience helping with the governance of a kingdom. Aragorn’s been overlooking that in favour of asking for your advice.”

“Thank you. Now you do know that you are still in trouble despite not being able to carry out your prank?”

“Yes, Ada. ‘It is the intent that matters, not the result.’ You have told me a number of times over the years.”

“Good. What should you have done rather than take your frustration out of Aragorn?”

“Spoken to you about what I was feeling, or written a note and left it on the table, if you hadn’t visited in a while.”

With that, Denethor put his arm around his child’s back, and drew him, face down, over his lap. Within a short period of time, Faramir’s backside was a rosy red colour, and he was crying once again, and promising to behave. Drawing the spanking to a close, Denethor rubbed his son’s back until the tears started to dissipate. He then eased Faramir the right way up, and enclosed him in his arms. Faramir’s arms wrapped around his father’s neck, in the manner of small child, and curled his legs up, in order to better fit in his father’s lap. Once again, he felt himself drift off to sleep, however this time, he was free from the pricks of his conscience as it rallied against the way he had been treating his King. Rather, there was simply a wonderful feeling of contentment, which amplified after he hears his bedroom door open and then close again, and the wonderful (if not so pleasant) scent of leather and sweat that signified his brother, that came and sat down next to him. The last thing that Faramir felt as he slipped more deeply into sleep was his brother’s hand, slowly running through his hair, a familiar, soothing caress that he had missed these past long months.


	7. An Apology, or Faramir's Character Begins to Show True

The morning after the attempted prank, Aragorn was sitting in his office, supposedly working, in reality, he was mulling over memories from the night before. Denethor had joined the rest of the family after seeing to Faramir. He was thoroughly exhausted, and more than a little exasperated. After explaining to everyone the purpose of the prank, there were several comments made to assure Denethor that everyone understood. The most surprising one, which caused Aragorn to chuckle at the memory of it, had come from Maglor.

*****

"He comes by it honestly enough, Denethor, I wouldn't worry overly much."

Had anyone been paying attention at this stage, they would have seen the face of one Elven lord start to turn red. All eyes however were on the Steward of Gondor, to see how he would respond to the statement.

"May I ask what you mean by that?"

Maglor settled back in his chair.

"A good number of years ago, I had a pair of twins whom I was taking care of. An old friend of mine, whom I hadn't seen in years, came to visit for a few weeks, and as such, I spent more time with this friend than I ever had with anyone that the twins had seen me with. They attempted, and succeeded on a few occasions, to play pranks on my guest in an effort to make him leave. Needless to say, that things ended in much the same way as they did for young Faramir tonight."

At this point, everyone looks towards Lord Elrond's twin sons, both of whom had spent time with Maglor when they were younger. Their bewildered, but amused and interested expressions convinced the occupants of the room that this was the the first time that they had heard of such an incident.

It was Galadriel who worked out who her cousin was talking about. With a gasp, she turned and faced her very embarrassed son by law. A single eyebrow, raised in a silent question, was answered with a nod. There was a moment of silence before the entire room exploded in laughter.

*****

His fond reminiscing was broken by a knock on the door.

"Come in!"

The door opened, and in crept a very shame faced Faramir. Eyes mostly on the floor, but occasionally glancing up, he appeared to be utterly apologetic. His soft whisper would have been inaudible to anyone who wasn't either a ranger or an elf.

"I'm sorry. For everything. I shouldn't have misbehaved like that."

Aragorn's heart went out to this distant cousin of his. By Numenourean standards Faramir was still considered a very young adult, and in the North, he would have been placed with a mentor, who was supposed to act much like a second father, upon joining the rangers, until such a point as a group of elder Rangers were convinced that the guardianship was no longer needed. Aragorn himself, even though he was Captain of the Northern Rangers, had been placed in the care of his cousin Halbarad. Faramir, however, had not had that. He had left home for the wilds of Ithilien a number of years before he came of age, and returned to Minas Tirith rarely. He had had to act much older than his years, and now that he no longer had to, it seemed that the imp was coming out in him. He answered the lad in front of him.

"All is forgiven, Faramir. You have already paid for your misdeeds with your Father. The only thing that I ask of you is that, next time you start to feel like that, please go talk to someone."

Reassured that he was in no further trouble, Aragorn was rewarded with a rare, shy grin from the lad standing in front of his desk. His next comment caught Aragorn off guard.

"Boro says he remembers you getting him to help you and Father with prank against Grandfather when you were here as Thorongil. Would you tell me about it some time?"

Aragorn smiled a little ruefully at Faramir.

"I'd love to, but this," he gestured at the paper work piled a foot high across the surface of his desk, "keeps me busy till fairly late at night."

Faramir walked around the desk, and picked up a few of the pieces of paperwork.

"Your secretary's are useless."

Aragorn choked on the air he was trying to inhale.

"Give me an hour or two and I should be able to turn this into manage chaos."

"It is all right, Faramir, I can cope."

"I was trained in scholarship by my Father and Mithrandir. Go away and let me fix this mess."

Faramir picked up half of one of the piles, and dumped it on the floor. Aragorn decided that sometimes it was better just to do as you were told.


	8. In Denethor's Office

"I thought you were supposed to be attacking the pile of paperwork in your office?"

"I was."

"Why are you in my office then?"

"I learnt a long time ago that sometimes it is simply better to do as I am told."

"Lord Elrond made you leave your office?"

"No."

"Oh. Faramir?"

"Yes."

"He does that sometimes."

"Why?"

"He's been at war with the citadel secretary's since he was five years old. He figured that if I spent less time doing paperwork, then I would have more time to spend with him and Boromir."

"That explains what set him off then."

"You complained about the amount of time it was taking to complete your paperwork?"

"Not exactly."

"He wanted you to do something then?"

"Wanted the story of the last prank we pulled against Ecthelion before the battle with the Corsairs."

"Ah. You found the way to gain his undying loyalty."

"Den?"

"Faramir will do almost anything if you promise him a story."

"What has he done in the past in exchange for a story?"

"He did Boromir's Academy essays for a semester when he was ten."

"What story did he get in exchange?"

"Neither will say."

"I swear those two are worse than we ever were."

"True. And in talking about misbehaving children, would you like to accompany me down to our head secretary's office? I rather think we will need to rescue him from my irate youngest, who will be blaming him for the time lapse between asking for the story, and getting it."


End file.
